Somebody bet on the Bay
by Shelbo
Summary: Henry and Alex get a little cocky about The Black winning every race. Suddenly, a bay colt comes along and ties up with The Black in the Breeders' Cup. Now, Alex is attempting to take Behaar for himself. Or will Behaar's foreigner jockey have her say? R
1. The Big Race

Notice: **I do not own The Black Stallion, Hopeful Farms, Alex Ramsey, Satan, or Henry Dailey. But I do own this story, Behaar, Kit Anderson, Jade Speed, and Windigo Farm. The races featured in this story are actual races ran. **

"They're in the gate!" the race announcer bellowed over the speakers. Down below, he could see Alex Ramsey on top of The Black as they stepped into the first position. Henry Dailey, The Black's trainer, muttered, "Don't matter where the two start. They're gonna win this race anyhoo." After a moment, the other stallions began bucking and kicking at the gates; screaming and trying to get out. But The Black sayed calm.

The gates slammed open faster than lightning and Alex drove his horse to the early initiative. The pack was seven lengths behind when The Black reached the half-polf thirty-two seconds later. Alex thought to himself, _This race is only six furlongs, not even a mile. If we have three furlongs left, we don't have much to worry about._ So The Black continued floating across the turf.

The announcer beamed, "The Black ridden by Ramsey has led the horses into the homestretch!" That's when the bay who was just in striking distance of the lead sped up. The announcer's eyes widened, "What a surprise! It seems Behaar has sped up to The Black. What a rocket!" Behaar was only half a foot from The Black at the 3/4 of a furlong pole. The jockey gave Behaar his head and the two racehorses were neck-and-neck. Henry jumped out of his seat faster than anyone in the stands had ever seen an old man jump. "Drive 'em, Alex! Don't let 'em catch ya"

A man next to Henry bit his nail nervously, for he bet all the money he had on the Black. He definatly did not want America's top horse and jockey to loose to this four-year-old and the Danish girl riding her. The announcer screamed, "HERE'S THE WIRE! DAMN! IT'S HARD TO TELL! WHAT A RACE! I-I THINK IT'S...IT'S A TIE! BEHAAR AND THE BLACK HAVE TIED IN THE BREEDERS' CUP CLASSIC!"


	2. Down on the Farm

_A month after the race.  
_ Alex sat on the tack box in the tack room of Hopeful Farms. In his lap was a newspaper that reported this Behaar's latest race in the local paper. It read:

_ "Bay Arabian colt and Danish jockey win the Clearwater! Yesterday, Behaar owned by Windigo Farm won the Clearwater by not ten but twenty lengths. The announcer said, 'Perhaps it was Flame's bad day.' But the first horse ever to try to beat the Black in a match race was definatly NOT having a bad day. It seems that Behaar and his jock, Kit Anderson clocked a impressive mile in 1:36 the day before the race.  
"Kit Anderson states, 'Back in Denmark, I did jumping on my Danish Warmblood. I say to Papa, "He is the best." Then, I came to New York and met my trainer, Mr. Sole. He introduced me to Behaar, who was imported from Arabia. He told me to do six furlongs in forty minutes. I came in thirty-six. From that day on, I knew me and him would be the best'  
"After a month from the Breeders' Cup, Mr. Sole tells the paper that he has called Henry Dailey, The Black's trainer, and requested a tie-breaker match race at the Saratoga. Henry told us, 'I didn't expect this. I mean, you can never get too cocky or else what happened that day'll happen. I sure hope Alex can pull through on this one.' The match race will be held next Saturday, November 5"  
_ Alex screamed at the picture of the handsome bay, one of the only colored pictures in the paper. "YOU CAN TRY, BUT YOU CANNOT WIN!" He ripped the whole newspaper to bits screaming like a mad man. Henry stepped into the tack room after putting a halter on a new filly, "Darn it, Alex. I wanted to read the paper." Alex's eyes narrowed, "I hate that bay. It's getting to much publicity. It's no better than Hopeful Farm's colts." Henry said gruffly, "Alex, you are being a poor sport." Alex cried, "Behaar is a phony. We've seen Flame! We know how fast he is. But how did Behaar do that?" Henry shrugged. "I dunno, Alex. I mean, we did put a claim on him two weeks back at Aqueduct, but someone claimed him for a higher price. He'd be nice to have." Alex went off the groom the Black, "Yeah, whatever, Henry."

Alex took a sponge and wiped the stallion's ebony coat slowly. He stopped to admire the sheen of his horse, "That Behaar may be fast, but you are much more handsomer." The Black raised his small head arrogantly as if to say, "Seriously? Why, I'd never have noticed." Alex began picking the horses hooves. How small they were for such a big horse. Then again, his dominating bloodline was Arabian. Maybe he had Akhal-Teke in him as well. Henry led the filly outside the barn and into the pasture to be reunited with her mother, The Black's grandfilly. The mother was underaged to have a foal, only three years old. Yet, it was an accident.


	3. A Different Alex

It was a week after Alex read the paper and he now found himself staring eye-to-eye with Behaar, the so called "Colt of the Century". He was so much like The Black, and so much not. He too had that fury in his eyes, which reminded him of his other successful racehorse, Satan. He had a small head and a small back. Behaar was also pretty tall for an Arab. The more Alex looked at the "stupid" horse, the more unstupid it became.

Henry had driven up to the stables at Saratoga all the way from a grocer down the road. With him was a bag of carrots. He gave one to The Black and one to Behaar. Alex scowled at Henry, why was he giving carrots to the enemy? Henry chuckled, "I thought he might like a bite. I hear he can get pretty envious if horses around him get attention. Kinda like that dog Sebastian you got." Alex nodded remembering his little floppy-eared dog at home.

"You groomed 'em?" Henry nodded towards The Black. "Yeah," grunted Alex, never lifting eye off his bay competitor. Henry put his arm around the young man's shoulders. "The race's starting up in an hour. Better get your silks on, boy." Alex went into the dressing room to don his silks, black with a diamond on his sleeves. He put on his goggles, pulled on his boots, and snapped the buckle of his helmet. He searched around for the whip, which he normally didn't use on his horse, but this...this was different.

Abruptantly, Kit walked into the dressing room and waited for Alex to leave so she could change in peace. Alex sanrled and left, slamming the door behind him. Kit had no clue what had made Alex so rude and nasty lately. She had been the one who rode Fireblade, the chesnut gelding who wound up in second place in the Kentucky Derby against Satan only five years ago. Alex seemed like a nice guy then, they even talked about horses and breeding Kit's Warmblood back in Denmark with Satan. Now, he didn't want to talk to Miss Anderson or look at her.

Kit shrugged and donned her silks: Dark green with light yellow horizontal stripes. Her helmet was black and her pants white. She reached for her whip but decided she could hand-ride her horse to the wire. She wondered if Alex would go back to normal, revert to his normal self after the race. She wanted once again to talk to him the way they did in the Jockey Club at Churchill Downs that Summer so long ago. Kit sighed and went to tack up Behaar.


	4. Knotting of the Reins

**_Notice- I know I made a few mistakes in the first three chapters. Yeah, I misspelled Alec. Alex, Alec, same name, different spelling. Also, I know Behaar isn't a thoroughbred, but neither is The Black, Satan, or Black Minx._**

As Kit left the tack room, Alec had just finished saddling up The Black. With her own saddle in her arms, she made her way over to the stall on the right of The Black, where Behaar awaited her. The bay stallion stomped his hoof impatiently as if to say, "Hurry, Kit. We have a race to run!" He nickered his urge to gallop down the stretch loudly. Smiling, Anderson opened the stall door and closed it quickly to make sure Behaar didn't hop out. "Settle down, Bee."

Alec stepped out of The Black's stall and went over to the left to rub Napoleon the gray little horse's nose. Tony, the owner of Napoleon, generously gave Alec permission to take Napoleon along to races since he was a calming effect on The Black. Napoleon nuzzled Alec's hand, probably smelling the apple he had given The Black earlier. "Sorry, Nap," Alec said. "I couldn't bring you one." With that, he walked towards the exit of the stable.

As he left, Kit opened her mouth to speak to him, but swiftly closed it.

Alec snarled.

She waved.

He rolled his eyes.

She walked off to the tack room for the bridle.

He flipped her a bird.

Alec walked towards Henry, who was sitting in a special box reserved for Alec, Henry, and their friends. Henry chuckled, "Hey, Alec, look who's here." In the seats next to Henry were Steve Duncan and his older friend Pitch. "Hi Steve, hello Pitch!" Alec called to him. Steve got up and went to Alec, "Good luck in the big race. I hope you win, Alec." The younger jockey was beaming, the way Alec would usually be doing. Except for the fact this was a match race against a spoiled and coddled horse who could be better than both the jockey's horses. Alec blurted at random, "How'd Flame loose to **THAT**?"

Steve whispered into Alec's ear, "You see, at the Clearwater, I overheard Kit talking to another jockey telling him about her struggle getting accepted in America. I felt sorry so I cut her a little slack in the race. I never intended her and Behaar to get that far away for the pack. I only expected five maybe ten lengths. But they _ARE_ good, without a doubt. I mean, to get _that_ much away from Flame. She's an experienced rider, I'll give her that." Alec plumped down next to Henry, "Yeah."

People began to arrive in the Grandstands. Henry nudged Alec, "The post parade is about to begin. Better knot your reins and hop on, boy." Alec nodded and rushed off to the stalls. He looked over at Kit who was being lifted onto Behaar by Mr. Sole. Mr. Sole was a short man. Not only was he the new owner of Behaar, he was his trainer even before he went and claimed the colt for himself.

Mr. Sole didn't want to loose Behaar if he got fired for a better trainer. So he quickly claimed the horse and was allowed to continue racing him under Windigo Farms. He was the man who taught Kit the ropes of horseracing, even though she insisted showjumping wasn't all that different. While training at Metro racetrack, she entered the gate the wrong way and ran down the track the other way, making the people watching them laugh.

Now, Kit was nearly as good as Alec, maybe even better. But no one would know _until_ the race was run. _Until_ someone drove their horse down the wire. _Until_ The Black was either claimed good or bad. Alec hoisted himself up and into his horse's saddle. Henry came in and grabbed the halter to begin the post parade. Alec looked up at the clock on the barn wall. _Yeah, only time would tell._


End file.
